I, Hogwarts Second Time Around.

Chapter 105 Mr. Scamander

Snape was replaced in the first playthrough?

Should I send him a gift?

Upon opening it, it turned out to be nothing precious, just a serpentine tooth with cavities.

I always felt there was a hint of mockery in it.

Next came the gift from Professor Dumbledore: a dozen pairs of socks in different colors.

The styles are all different.

But they are all Muggle products, and some even have very childish cartoon images embroidered on them.

Like Donald Duck, Mickey Mouse, Spider-Man, Superman, and so on.

Irving looked on with obvious disgust.

What the heck is all this?

Me! Irving Sanchez, the master of the dark style, and I go out wearing something like this?

I want my dark-themed outfit!

I want my gloomy and aloof temperament!

I want my eccentric and unrestrained life motto!

Wearing something like this would ruin my public image!

Filled with grief and indignation, Irving tore open the last gift box.

That was a letter.

The gift has been delivered. Merry Christmas!

Well! His maternal grandfather is out in the wild again!

After calming down.

Irving glanced at the clothes on the bed

Then—then he kicked Spider-Man with one foot and Donald Duck with the other.

Wearing the sweater knitted by Molly, she dashed out of the dormitory in a flash!

The Christmas party will proceed as scheduled in the afternoon.

The auditorium was decorated in a magnificent and imposing manner.

Not only were there a dozen Christmas trees covered in silver frost and a thick ribbon of mistletoe and holly crisscrossing on the ceiling, but there was also enchanted snow, warm and dry, gently drifting down from the ceiling.

The professors on the stage were all in high spirits, their faces beaming with joy, showing no sign of the tension that the school was in danger.

And what about Headmaster Dumbledore?

He is not here.

He heard from other young wizards that they seemed to have seen someone visit him.

Someone is visiting?

Irving immediately thought of his maternal grandfather, but then he realized that didn't make sense!

If it's his maternal grandfather, why didn't he deliver the Christmas gift boxes himself instead of having someone else deliver them?

With his doubts lingering in his heart, Irving waited quietly.

The auditorium remained a place of laughter and chatter among the professors until about ten minutes after the Christmas party began.

A sudden commotion arose outside the gate.

Then Dumbledore walked in, holding a man's hand.

He was an elderly man carrying a brown leather suitcase, and his expression was slightly embarrassed.

His gray hair, with unnatural curls, made him look somewhat unkempt.

He kept his face down, staring shyly at the stone slabs beneath his feet.

He wore an old-fashioned gray suit, with a brown jacket and white shirt underneath, and a black bow tie.

His overcoat appeared to be specially made, with many pockets.

His collar was turned up, and his trousers were tucked into his boots.

He had a somewhat eccentric, nerdy air about him, but in the end he seemed more like an adventurer.

Okay~ Irving already knows who this gentleman is.

Oh, Mr. Scamander!

"Oh! This is the one I wanted to introduce to you." Owen's gaze met Dumbledore's, and then he pulled Mr. Newt along and walked over.

"Don't let his young age fool you, Owen is absolutely the most talented in magic I've ever seen."

Irving looked at Newt, who was nearly ninety years old.

Newt was also sizing him up.

Is this Dumbledore's favorite student?

Suddenly, a thought popped into Newt's mind.

"Hello," he said shyly.

Although he is nearly 96 years old, Newt is still not good at talking to people, even if the other person is just a 12-year-old wizard.

He always seemed to avoid eye contact when he looked at Irving.

"Hi, Newt! I especially love your book 'Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them,' I've bought every edition." Owen blinked his bright gray eyes, trying to look cute.

In a daze, Newt suddenly felt that he had seen those eyes somewhere before.

He seemed to remember that there had once been a pair of gray eyes staring at him like that.

However, that person seemed to want his life.

"Thank you." Newt nodded stiffly, then suddenly fell silent.

The silence was thick with awkwardness.

Professor Dumbledore, who was standing nearby, looked at him with amusement. After a while, Newt suddenly realized, "Oh! Right, today is Christmas."

As he spoke, he reached into the pocket of his trench coat and rummaged around for a bit, muttering to himself, "Hobby, let go, this isn't your food."

"Okay, Millie, I'll find you a new bed."

Newt, who was tugging at the little cutie in his pocket, offered kind words of advice.

Finally, they managed to bring out two pets that looked very much like stray cats.

They were two small, cat-like animals, about the size of a palm, with various spots on their fur, particularly large ears, and tails like lion's tails.

"Sorry, they're a little shy." Newt, holding one in each hand, smiled shyly at Owen before putting them back in his pocket.

"The kitten is newborn and still needs its mother," he said.

"This is for you." He then handed Owen two cat toys and a rather old book covered in kitten scratches, but also very new.

The 53rd edition of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them.

"Wow! It's a new edition!" Although Irving had never even opened the book.

"Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them" was a forbidden book in his home.

But as a popular book that every wizard would buy, he had seen Justin's.

The new book he bought last year was only the 52nd edition.

"That—Albus."

After giving Owen the gift, Newt suddenly became very anxious. He held the briefcase in both hands and kept looking back and forth among the many young wizards in the Great Hall.

Especially the Slytherin direction.

He was forced to come with a mission.

Last September, a dark wizard barged into his house without warning and, after reminiscing about fond memories of the past, forcefully gave him a Christmas gift quest.

"Owen, it seems Newt doesn't know you very well!" Professor Dumbledore said with a theatrical air, standing to the side with a smile.

"It's alright! I have a special skill for being remembered!"

Just kidding, would a social butterfly like Kyrie Irving worry about people not remembering him?

He also guessed that Newt was probably looking for him.

He coughed twice, cleared his throat, and put his hands behind his back.

A wicked smile played on his lips as he stared intently at Newt, saying, "Mr. Scamander!"

"What makes Dumbledore so fond of you?"

Do you think Dumbledore would mourn for you?

The same tone, the exact same manner.

Even the way they swayed their heads was almost identical.

In an instant, Newt's thoughts were taken back to the past.

That sinister wizard had asked him questions in the exact same tone as Owen.

"Ouch!" The despicable old Deng interrupted Irving's performance with a sharp rap on the head.

He glared at Owen, then turned to Newt with a smile and said, "The kid's a bit naughty and disobedient, but don't worry about him."

"???"

Mr. Newt seems to have been hit hard.

He staggered back a few steps, then looked up at the college flag on the long table in front of him.

He glanced down at Irving, then at the school flag, then at Irving again.

???

I don't care!

I don't care?

I don't care?!

Is the Sorting Hat senile?

He screamed inwardly.

How did this little wizard dressed as Grindelwald II end up in Hufflepuff?!

"You—you are that person."

"But—why—Hufflepuff?" Newt seemed to have a mental block, stammering and unable to utter a complete sentence.

"Oh! That hat is broken," Owen said with a grin.

"But I also really like Hufflepuff. Everyone here is friendly and honest, which I love."

"Okay—okay." Mr. Newt still seemed unable to accept that a child with a deep connection to Grindelwald would be sorted into Hufflepuff.

As a former member of Hufflepuff, he was deeply proud of his house.

But now he has some worries.

Hufflepuff—a reputation that lasts a thousand years! We can't afford to have a great villain emerge from there.

Owen stared at Newt with the same look he had on someone who looked at him like he was a plague.

His lips curled into a wide smile!

He was already shy, and now he couldn't utter a single word.

After a moment of stunned silence, he suddenly squatted down on the ground and then opened his manhood.

The wand was waved slightly.

A gift box immediately flew up.

"A Christmas present from Grindelwald."

He spoke stiffly, as if he were handling a hot potato.

Then he shoved the box into Irving's hand.

"What is this?" Owen carried a wooden box that was about two feet wide, and Justin, who was standing next to him, helped him carry it. The group placed the box on the long table.

Slowly open.

What comes into view is an astonishing number of magic books.

Judging from the handwriting, it looks more like someone's handwritten copy than a printed book.

His grandfather's notes on black magic research?

The thought instantly popped into Irving's mind.

Then he turned back and glanced at Old Deng almost imperceptibly.

Look at him! He still finds time to write even while traveling! And look at you!

All he does all day is think about how to toy with the little wizard!

Strategic vision—strategic vision!

No way—let Grandpa be the principal!

If Grindelwald were the headmaster, the first-year students would have killed Quirrell long ago after noticing his strange behavior, and wouldn't have caused so much trouble.

"Roar~" Just as Owen was sharply criticizing his principal, a childish shout from the box suddenly drew his attention back.

That was a giant dragon with rainbow-colored scales and jewel-like eyes—right?

But why do dragons have wings?

Looking at its nose, it doesn't protrude outwards like a normal dragon, and it also has two horns on its head.

"What's this?" Owen asked, pointing to the little creature's nose.

"Australian protein eyes," the magical animal conservationist beside him replied instinctively.

Oh! My senior Newt just can't resist magical creatures.

"It's not just the Australian White-Eyed Dragon." As he spoke, he suddenly bent down and leaned closer, pointing to the little dragon's eyes and body, saying, "The Australian White-Eyed Dragon is considered one of the most beautiful fire dragons. Its scales are pearl-like, and it has no pupils."

To improve the average subscription rate, we'll change it to two chapters of 3,000 words each from now on. The word count remains the same, but the number of chapters decreases, which will make the average subscription rate appear higher.

(End of this chapter)